Years have not seen, Time shall not see | |
The hour that tears my soul from thee: | |
Ev’n Azrael | |
When flies that shaft, and fly it must, | |
325 | That parts all else, shall doom for ever |
Our hearts to undivided dust!’ | |
XII | |
He lived – he breathed – he moved – he felt; | |
He raised the maid from where she knelt; | |
His trance was gone – his keen eye shone | |
330 | With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; |
With thoughts that burn – in rays that melt. | |
As the stream late conceal’d | |
By the fringe of its willows, | |
When it rushes reveal’d | |
335 | In the light of its billows; |
As the bolt bursts on high | |
From the black cloud that bound it, | |
Flash’d the soul of that eye | |
Through the long lashes round it. | |
340 | A war-horse at the trumpet’s sound, |
A lion roused by heedless hound, | |
A tyrant waked to sudden strife | |
By graze of ill-directed knife, | |
Starts not to more convulsive life | |
345 | Than he, who heard that vow, display’d, |
And all, before repress’d, betray’d: | |
‘Now thou art mine, for ever mine, | |
With life to keep, and scarce with life resign; | |
Now thou art mine that sacred oath, | |
350 | Though sworn by one, hath bound us both. |
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done; | |
That vow hath saved more heads than one; | |
But blench not thou – thy simplest tress | |
Claims more from me than tenderness; | |
355 | I would not wrong the slenderest hair |
That clusters round thy forehead fair, | |
For all the treasures buried far | |
Within the caves of Istakar. | |
This morning clouds upon me lower’d, | |
360 | Reproaches on my head were shower’d, |
And Giaffir almost call’d me coward! | |
Now I have motive to be brave; | |
The son of his neglected slave, | |
Nay, start not, ’twas the term he gave, | |
365 | May show, though little apt to vaunt, |
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt. | |
His | |
Perchance I am, at least shall be; | |
But let our plighted secret vow | |
370 | Be only known to us as now. |
I know the wretch who dares demand | |
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand; | |
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul | |
Holds not a Musselim’s | |
375 | Was he not bred in Egripo? |
A viler race let Israel show; | |
But let that pass – to none be told | |
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold. | |
To me and mine leave Osman Bey; | |
380 | I’ve partisans for peril’s day: |
Think not I am what I appear; | |
I’ve arms, and friends, and vengeance near.’ | |
XIII | |
‘Think not thou art what thou appearest! | |
My Selim, thou art sadly changed: | |
385 | This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest; |
But now thou’rt from thyself estranged. | |
My love thou surely knew’st before, | |
It ne’er was less, nor can be more. | |
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay, | |
390 | And hate the night I know not why, |
Save that we meet not but by day; | |
With thee to live, with thee to die, | |
I dare not to my hope deny: | |
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss, | |
395 | Like this – and this – no more then this: |
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame: | |
What fever in thy veins is flushing? | |
My own have nearly caught the same, | |
At least I feel my cheek too blushing. | |
400 | To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, |
Partake, but never waste thy wealth, | |
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, | |
And lighten half thy poverty; | |
Do all but close thy dying eye, | |
405 | For that I could not live to try; |
To these alone my thoughts aspire: | |
More can I do? or thou require? | |
But, Selim, thou must answer why | |
We need so much of mystery? | |
410 | The cause I cannot dream nor tell, |
But be it, since thou say’st ’t is well; | |
Yet what thou mean’st by ‘arms’ and ‘friends,’ | |
Beyond my weaker sense extends. | |
I meant that Giaffir should have heard | |
415 | The very vow I plighted thee; |
His wrath would not revoke my word: | |
But surely he would leave me free. | |
Can this fond wish seem strange in me, | |
To be what I have ever been? | |
420 | What other hath Zuleika seen |
From simple childhood’s earliest hour? | |
What other can she seek to see | |
Than thee, companion of her bower, | |
The partner of her infancy? | |
425 | These cherish’d thoughts with life begun, |
Say, why must I no more avow? | |
What change is wrought to make me shun | |
The truth; my pride, and thine till now? | |
To meet the gaze of stranger’s eyes | |
430 | Our law, our creed, our God denies; |
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine | |
At such, our Prophet’s will, repine: | |
No! happier made by that decree, | |
He left me all in leaving thee. | |
435 | Deep were my anguish, thus compell’d |
To wed with one I ne’er beheld: | |
This wherefore should I not reveal? | |
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal? | |
I know the Pacha’s haughty mood | |
440 | To thee hath never boded good; |
And he so often storms at nought, | |
Allah! forbid that e’er he ought! | |
And why, I know not, but within | |
My heart concealment weighs like sin. | |
445 | If then such secrecy be crime, |
And such it feels while lurking here; | |
Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time, | |
Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. | |
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar, | |
My father leaves the mimic war; | |
450 | I tremble now to meet his eye – |
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?’ | |
XIV | |
‘Zuleika – to thy tower’s retreat | |
Betake thee – Giaffir I can greet: | |
455 | And now with him I fain must prate |
Of firmans, impost, levies, state. | |
There’s fearful news from Danube’s banks, | |
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks, | |
For which the Giaour may give him thanks! | |
460 | Our Sultan hath a shorter way |
Such costly triumph to repay. | |
But, mark me, when the twilight drum | |
Hath warn’d the troops to food and sleep, | |
Unto thy cell will Selim come: | |
465 | Then softly from the Haram creep |
Where we may wander by the deep: | |
Our garden-battlements are steep; | |
Nor these will rash intruder climb | |
To list our words, or stint our time; | |
470 | And if he doth, I want not steel |
Which some have felt, and more may feel. | |
Then shalt thou learn of Selim more | |
Than thou hast heard or thought before: | |
Trust me, Zuleika – fear not me! | |
475 | Thou know’st I hold a Haram key.’ |
‘Fear thee, my Selim! ne’er till now | |
Did word like this –’ | |
‘Delay not thou; | |
I keep the key – and Haroun’s guard | |
Have | |
480 | To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear |
My tale, my purpose, and my fear: | |
I am not, love! what I appear.’ | |
Canto the Second | |
I | |
The winds are high on Helle’s wave, | |
As on that night of stormy water | |
When Love, who sent, forgot to save |